


Exactly What She Needed

by jmajerus



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jmajerus/pseuds/jmajerus
Summary: Feyre Archeron has had the week from hell dealing with a devil of a client.  Rather than go home on Friday evening, she goes to the bar and finds exactly what she didn't know she needed.





	1. Chapter 1

Feyre Archeron usually did not go out on Friday nights after work to drink.  For the past six months it was normal to go home to her studio apartment, kick off her heels, peel off her work clothes, and take up residence on the couch with take out and a bottle of wine in front of the television.  It was her way to wind down in the peace and quiet of her own home.  It was a routine she enjoyed.

But this week had been sent from Hell.  No, it had probably been worse than Hell had in store for her.  She was an illustrator.  A children’s book illustrator.  The most stressful part of her job was supposed to be deadlines and the author liking her work for their story.  But this week had been more trying than most.

The author that had specifically chosen to be her client, had seen her work and had demanded Feyre Archeron be made available to illustrate her book of fairy tales, had been a nightmare.  Her fairy tales were far from child friendly and the woman had been downright vicious.  Beyond that she had very specific ideas of what she wanted her characters to look like.  She had come to the meeting armed with descriptions and pictures.  Feyre had almost walked out then and there, but she was a professional and they needed this author for their publishing firm.  It wasn’t because Feyre wasn’t getting artistic freedom either.  No, it had been because the picture this woman, this Amarantha, had produced for her Prince Charming had been Feyre’s abusive ex-fiancé in all his golden, handsome glory. 

The picture had brought up memories, anxieties, and feelings that Feyre had spent the last six months since leaving him fixing.  Almost worse than the picture of Tamlin had been a picture of his best friend, Lucien.  Feyre had been close with Lucien which had made it all the harder when Amarantha had taken a pen and had scratched out one of Lucien’s eyes in the picture because the character “deserved to be maimed”.  She hadn’t spoken to Lucien since she had broken things off with Tamlin but it still hurt her to draw her friend injured in such a way. 

Other characters had all had pictures too.  Feyre hadn’t been able to identify any other characters by their pictures.  There had been the villain, a handsome man that likely was a model with how stupidly perfect he had been.  Tanned skin, muscled body, midnight black hair, chiseled features, and strikingly violet eyes.  The bad guy had two brothers that she wouldn’t have been shocked to see they were related in real life.  All were tanned, muscular, and hair black hair though the two brothers had hazel eyes.  They had been the bad guy’s lackeys in a sense in Amarantha’s story.

Because drawing Tamlin repeatedly and maiming Lucien in her drawings had been traumatic for her, she had stayed late at work all week to put together her drawings.  And all week Amarantha had nit-picked.  Feyre still wasn’t done because Amarantha had decided Feyre was illiterate and needed someone to read her the story so she could accurately draw the scenes.  The decision had come in after Feyre had already stayed three hours late to finish and send the drawings. 

So now it was almost 9 at night on a Friday and she was just wandering into a bar instead of going home because she knew it would do her no good to go home and be by herself so angry at the world.  Being alone at a bar wasn’t much better, but at least there was more than wine at a bar and people she could watch.  So she took up a table near the dance floor, ordered a plate of nachos because she had skipped dinner, and the biggest whiskey and coke she could get.

She people watched for nearly half an hour thinking she would go home before long before she noticed the DJ setting up karaoke.  She wasn’t someone who could carry a tune with a bucket so she had never been out to see karaoke done.  She had only seen it in movies and television shows.  Somewhere in her mind the decision to stay, watch, and maybe have a good laugh at some drunk people singing solidified. 

She looked around to catch the waitress’s eye to order another drink and froze.  Leaning against the bar chatting amicably with the bartender was the man from Amarantha’s pictures, the one that was the bad guy.  The picture Amarantha had had hadn’t done the man any justice.  What was stupidly perfect in the picture was ridiculously stupidly perfect in real life.  Cauldron, he was the most beautiful man she had ever seen.  And worse than that, the two men sitting next to him were the other two men she had been given pictures of as his lackeys.  Both handsome though one more classic to the other’s rough hewn features.  And as if they could sense her eyes on them, all three of them turned to look at her at the same time. 

A blush fought its way up Feyre’s cheeks.  Even more so as the beautiful man gave her a smirk that set her blood ablaze.  And then he was clutched two drinks and walking over to her.  At least he was alone.  He had left his two ‘brothers’ at the bar.

“Hello Darling,” the man purred at her with a deep and very sensual voice.  She could almost imagine hearing his voice in a dark bedroom in the most indecent ways, and immediately she scolded herself to lock down those thoughts.  She was not interested in a relationship.  Not at all.  Not even a one night stand.  Men were trouble.

“I am not your darling,” she retorted, hoping he would get the meaning and go right back to the bar with his tail between his legs.

“Of course, Darling,” the man gave her the smirk once more.  Instantly her cheeks heated in response.  “I thought your drink looked a little empty, so I brought you another.”

“I am not some girl you can buy with drinks,” she informed him, proud of her tart tone. 

“Oh, I was already aware of that.  You definitely don’t look like a woman that can be bought with a little alcohol.  They wear much tighter, shorter clothing, too much make up, and shoes that will break their ankles.”  He informed her as he set another full whiskey and coke in front of her.

“Then why bring me another drink?”  Feyre demanded.  There had to be a motive and she would bet another it was still getting in her pants.

“I do want something from you, Darling, so I was hoping to butter you up,” the man informed her.  “May I sit and explain?”  He nodded to the chair near her. 

Intrigued by whatever he might say, she nodded.  She still had bets it would be about trying to get her to a bed eventually but openly admitting to wanting something had her interested.

“You see my brother and my cousin absolutely love karaoke and we’ve all had a shit week at work so I arranged for us to all meet here tonight to let loose.  But we had a meeting that went much later than usual so we are getting here too late to get our normal table, or any table really,” he made a show of looking around at all of the full tables and booths.  “So I was hoping the single woman occupying our normal table…” he gave her a pointed look.

Feyre sighed.  She didn’t want to move.  There was space at the bar but it didn’t give her a good place to watch people all the well and certainly not the karaoke.  It also looked like she wanted to be picked up sitting up there alone.  But it would be churlish of her to hold onto a table for herself when there was a group that was looking for a table.  Especially a group that regularly sat there.

“I was hoping you’d let us join you for the evening,” the man finished.  “Just myself, my two brothers there, and my cousin when she arrives.”  When she didn’t answer right away he added, “I’ll buy your drinks all night.”

“Fine,” Feyre sighed.  She was going to agree anyway but not having to pay for her drinks was a nice bonus.  The man turned and waved to his brothers and they started to make their way through the bar towards them.  “I’m Feyre, by the way.”

“Rhysand, but please call me Rhys,” he turned back to her.  She almost snorted.  Amarantha had to know this man.  Had to not like this man.  She had named her Prince Charming Taman and his maimed squire Lucan.  Far too close to Tamlin and Lucien for it to be coincidence.  And now there was Rhysand, or rather Rhydian in the book.  “And these are my brothers Azriel and Cassian,” he waved to the more classically handsome man first followed by the rough hewn one.  Amarantha was not original at all.  She had named them Azra and Caspian. 

They started talking, mostly about business.  It seemed that Rhys owned and ran several businesses along with his brothers and cousin.  Feyre simply sat and listened for the most part until a gorgeous blonde came to join them dressed and done up just as Rhys had described the women that could be bought with alcohol.

“This is my cousin Morrigan,” Rhys explained as Mor threw herself into a chair without an ounce of grace.

“Mor,” she informed Feyre and offered her hand.

“Feyre,” she responded as she shook the woman’s hand.

“These boys haven’t been giving you much trouble, have they?”  Mor asked as if she fully expected Feyre to wish to be rescued.

“We have been good!”  Cassian retorted.  “For now, anyway.”

“So what has you out all by yourself on a Friday night?”  Mor asked, taking a long drink from some fruity looking cocktail.

“I had the client from hell this week and apparently we really need her name tied with ours so I’m supposed to bend over backwards and take ever ounce of verbal abuse she tosses my way,” Feyre explained.

“What do you do that requires you to be verbally abused?”  Rhys cut in.

“I illustrate books.  Children’s books currently though I’m hoping for an opening in cover design at some point.  Which means I need to put up with the verbal abuse now.”  Feyre took a long pull from her drink, savoring the burn of the whiskey mixed into the sweet coke.

“Which publishing firm do you work for?”  Rhys asked.

“Priestess Books,” Feyre spoke and watched the four of them let out a collective groan.

“Ianthe Priestess is a pain in the ass,” Cassian told her and Feyre snorted.  The owner of the company, Ianthe Priestess was a bitch.  Even Feyre could agree to that.  But anything Feyre might have said in response was drowned out by the announcement of karaoke finally being up and running.

They watched for an hour and through several more rounds of drinks before Cassian went to get some of the slips of paper and the song book.

“Rules are simple, folks.  You sing the song picked for you.  If you don’t know it, you lose automatically.  Loser buys coffee for the week and the top winner gets dinner paid for tomorrow.”  Cassian threw the papers down in front of Rhys, Mor, and Azriel.  “Do you sing, Feyre?”  He asked as he held on to the last two pieces of paper.

“Oh Cauldron no!”  Feyre blushed.  “Everyone’s ears would bleed.”

“I doubt that,” Rhys told her.

“My sisters have banned me from singing ‘Happy Birthday’ ever again,” she told him honestly.  The admission earned a laugh from the table.

“Alright then, you can be our judge,” Cassian tossed the paper down in front of her.  “Rank us 1-4 from best performance to worst.”  Then he turned to the table.  “I want Rhys.”

Names were called by the others until everyone had who they were supposed to assign a song to.  Then Cassian was bringing the folded papers back up to the DJ to be added to the queue.

Mor was called first out of the group to sing Wrecking Ball by Miley Cyrus.  She didn’t have a voice for it, or any singing at all, but she did have enough charm to get most of the bar singing with her.  If anything, Feyre wanted to give her points for that.

Then Azriel went up with Rhys snickering behind his back.  There was a collective laugh as it was announced he would be singing Bicycle by Queen.  It wasn’t a song that Feyre knew well but Azriel sang it easily, his deep voice cracking at the higher notes.

Rhys went next and Feyre was treated, actually treated, to see him not only sing but dance a little to Taylor Swift’s Shake it Off.  It turned out he was a closeted Taylor fan and his family had been working to expose him for nearly six months.  They cheered the loudest when he finished.

Then Cassian was called to the front and Azriel leaned over the table.  “I debated between two.  Part of me wanted to do It’s Raining Men but I think I found something much better.”  Then he pulled out his phone and set it to record.

“Again I have Cassian Night up here, and he’s going to be singing Call Me Maybe.”  The DJ called out and Cassian turned to Azriel to flip him off just once before the music started.

If there was anything Feyre had done right this week, it was coming to the bar because Cassian was certainly making her forget all about Amarantha and her shitty book.  The man was well over six feet tall, heavily muscled, and looked like the most masculine man, and yet, he took the microphone in one hand and adopted the air of a confident drunk woman giving out her phone number.  He sang and danced as if he had the whole thing choreographed ahead of time and all of it was caught by Azriel recording the whole performance.  Feyre was practically crying with laughter as Cassian finished to thunderous applause and several men offering him their phone numbers.

“I need another drink after that,” Azriel told them all.  He stood and Mor stood to go with them.

“Is there any way I can bribe you to tell Cassian he lost terribly?”  Rhys asked when they were alone at the table.

“I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face,” Feyre chuckled.  “That made my entire week.” 

“Alright, fine, if it made you so happy I can’t ask you to pretend it didn’t,” Rhys mock sighed.

“You know, it’s funny,” Feyre settled back in her chair.  “All week I’ve been trying to escape this damn author and her book but here I am surrounded by her characters and it’s exactly what I needed.”

“What do you mean ‘surrounded by her characters’?”  Rhys was eyeing her drink as if she was completely drunk.  And no, she wasn’t that drunk but perhaps enough to have loosened her tongue.

“I don’t know what you did to this Amarantha bitch,” Feyre told him.  She doubted he’d be offended by the woman being called a bitch since she hadn’t painted him in the nicest light.  “But she wrote you and your brothers into her story and made you the bad characters.  She even gave me pictures of the three of you to work off of.”

Rhys had stilled for a moment and the smile on his face had faltered enough that Feyre wasn’t exactly sure she had said the right thing.  She was about to backtrack when Rhys cut through her thoughts with a simple, “is there any way I can see this?  Since I’m a character after all.”

Feyre knew there were rules about exposing an author’s work before it was published but she honestly wasn’t sure she cared with this particular case and Rhys’ likeness was being used.  So she took her tablet out of her purse and opened the folder containing the pictures she had been given, the story, and the sketches she had made up.  Rhys looked through all of them, ignoring his family as they wandered back to the table.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”  Feyre spoken when Rhys remained quiet.  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I’m glad you did, Feyre Darling,” Rhys assured her.  “You’re very talented though that book is shit.  Far too many underlying adult themes for the age she is aiming for.  The editor is an idiot and Ianthe is an idiot for wanting to publish the book so badly.”  He took a long drink.  “But we must be doing something right.” Those words alone got the attention of the rest of the table and confused Feyre.  “It seems we slighted Amarantha Scarlett one too many times.  She’s written a book with Tamlin as her golden prince and us as her villains.  And she’s made a point to drag poor Feyre into this to draw us.”

“Well, I hope you’re accurate in your drawings.  I’d hate to be made up ugly just because I’m the bad guy,” Cassian informed her.

“Amarantha works for a rival company.  She wanted to get in with us on an investment, we shut her out, and now this is what we get,” Rhys explained to Feyre.  “And it seems like Ianthe, or rather Tamlin, isn’t bothered by shoddy business practices.  That’s who she based her golden buy on, Tamlin Spring.”

“I know,” Feyre shuddered.  “But why would you tie him in with Ianthe?”

“Because he is her main investor,” Azriel cut in.

Feyre almost threw up at the information.  She had thought it luck after she had left Tamlin that Ianthe had reached out to her, had said she had seen Feyre’s work and had wanted to offer her a job.  Now it was too much of a coincidence.  In fact, it explained more than it didn’t.  Worse, it meant that Feyre needed to quit.

“Why do you look like you’ve just eaten a lemon?”  Cassian demanded.

“I just realized why I was hired in the first place.  Tam always said I wouldn’t be able to escape him if I broke off our engagement.  I just didn’t realize he was keeping tabs in other ways.”  And just like that, her night was ruined once more.  “Excuse me.”  She needed air.  She needed to get out of the crowded bar.  She needed to go home and draft her resignation letter and then start searching for jobs.

“Hey,” Rhys caught her wrist as she went out the front door.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… no,” she sighed.  “I’m sorry you don’t need to be brought into my mess.”

“I’m asking to be brought in,” he assured her.  Then he led her outside to where a bench sat to one side of the door.

“It’s just,” Feyre rubbed a hand over her face.  “I thought I was doing something for myself.  I thought I was talented enough to have gotten this job on my own.  I thought I had gotten away from that bastard and I was getting past what he had done to me.  But this is just another way he is controlling me and I was too stupid to realize it.  Now I have to quit my job, try and find something else before I get evicted.”

“I know it isn’t much but I happen to know of another publishing firm that is always looking for talented illustrators.  If you bring your portfolio there on Monday, I’m sure you’ll get hired,” Rhys opened his wallet and took out a card for her to see the words _Velaris Publishing, Night Corp._

Feyre wasn’t completely stupid.  She had gathered enough information to know it was one of Rhys’ companies.  But she didn’t want hand outs or favors.  She didn’t want another man pulling strings for her.  Tamlin had done that too much and she would never know how much she had actually accomplished herself and how much he had orchestrated for her, even now when she thought she was out of his grasp.  And all of those thoughts must have shown on her face as Rhys pushed the card into her hand.

“I don’t micromanage my businesses.  I have no say in the hiring of employees, but I do know that Velaris has been looking for a decent illustrator for a while.  I’m not much of a judge but the work I saw tonight tells me enough to point you in that direction.”  He hesitated another moment and held up a second card.  “On an unrelated note, I’d like to give you my number.”

“Why?”  Feyre frowned at him unsure of why he would give her his number.  He was already aware she wasn’t looking for handouts. 

“Because I think you’re the most stunning woman I’ve ever had the priviledge to lay eyes on.  You are strong and funny.  You’re smart, and a smart ass.  And you fit in with my family in a way I’ve never seen anyone else manage.  So if I can’t take a damn hint that I should be at least trying to ask you for a date, then I’m an idiot.  And I try not to be an idiot most of the time.  I leave that for Cassian.”

Despite herself, Feyre laughed and let her fingers close around the cards Rhys was offering.  She knew, somewhere deep down, that he wasn’t like Tamlin.  Deep down she knew if she went on a date with him and then told him to go away, he would, even if she ended up working at one of his companies.

“I’ll check in with Velaris on Monday,” Feyre stood.  “And as for that date, I’m free tomorrow night and I like Illyrian food.”

“It’s a date then, Feyre Darling,” he stood too and leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek.  “Are you coming back inside or are you going home?”

“It’s been a long day, I should go home,” she admitted.  The bar was only a couple miles from her apartment.  A walk would do her good.

“Then I’ll say Goodnight, Feyre Darling,” Rhys sighed.  “And I’m telling Cassian that you said I won, and he owes everyone coffee next week.”

“Goodnight Rhys,” she said over her laugh. 

As she walked down the street she took out her phone to send a text to Rhys both to thank him for everything and to give him her phone number.  He responded within seconds which made Feyre smile even more.  A second text message coming in from an unknown number had her laughing.  Azriel had sent her the video of Cassian’s performance. 

And maybe it was the alcohol, or the laughter from Cassian sashaying across the stage, or the thought of a date with Rhys, but Feyre smiled all the way home and couldn’t seem to stop smiling even as she went to sleep that night after emailing Ianthe her resignation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New beginnings and bitter ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. This was a one-shot and when asking for prompts I had someone ask if they could see more of this story. I have no idea where it is going to go but I don't expect it to be long.

Feyre grinned to herself as she stepped off the bus in front of Priestess Publishing.  Her morning had gone amazingly.  She had woken up, taken her resume and portfolio to Velaris Publishing and had sat in the lobby for all of two minutes before she had been shown back to meet Nuala Wraith, head of the Illustration Department.  One look through her portfolio had Nuala discussing contract terms with her.  Then they had spent another two hours on hiring paperwork and negotiating when she would be able to start.  Provided she passed background checks, she would be able to begin the following day.

She planned to celebrate the new job properly but first she needed to go back to her old office and collect her art supplies that she kept there.  She knew Ianthe had gotten her resignation because starting at 8:15 AM when Ianthe would have arrived at work, Feyre had started receiving phone calls and messages almost nonstop. 

Right as she stepped off the bus her phone chimed again.  She peered down at the screen and smiled.  It wasn’t Ianthe texting her but Rhys.

_I’d ask how it went but I was just called and told to take down the online ads we have asking for illustrators.  Congratulations.  When are we celebrating?_

She smiled at the message and remembered their date.  She had gotten there early but Rhys had been there already waiting, a bouquet of red tulips in his hands.  They had talked until the restaurant had had to kick them out.  There had been promises of a second date and one small kiss on the lips before they had parted ways.  Then they had texted all Sunday and she had woken to a text of encouragement before she had gone to Velaris. 

 _Thank you.  I just have to pick up my stuff from my old job and then I’m free whenever._   It was only noon so she doubted he’d pick sometime soon, but she was certain it would be something that evening.

_Dinner.  My place, I’m cooking.  I’ll send you the address in a bit.  Heading into a meeting._

She gave her phone one more bright smile before she tucked it away in her purse with her tablet and walked into Priestess Publishing for the last time.  She gave a smile to the girl at the front desk and a look of relief passed over the girl’s face.

“Ms. Priestess has been looking for you all day.  I hope you have a doctor’s note or something.  She’s on the warpath.”  The girl babbled and Feyre simply rolled her eyes on her way through the secured door back to where her office was.  She had resigned and Ianthe knew that.

The path to her office was clear of coworkers and anyone else as she made her way back to her tiny cubicle.  She made quick work of emptying the desk of her colored pencils, her pens, paper, and various other supplies she had accumulated because Ianthe provided nothing for her employees other than work space and a computer.

She sat at the computer to clear all of her files from it.  She kept no sketches at the office but there were some pieces saved on the computer that were unfinished.  And she had read her contract thoroughly enough to know that any unfinished artwork was her intellectual property.  Only published artwork belonged to the company.  So she happily deleted the file full of Amarantha’s illustrations.  She was just finishing up when she heard someone behind her.

“Miss Archeron, I see you’ve come for your things,” Ianthe’s shrill voice was behind her.

“I was just about to leave my keys and badge at the desk,” Feyre told her as she stood to gather her box.

“We need to do some exit paperwork.  Would you come with me?”  She waved Feyre back towards her office and Feyre simply shrugged and moved to pick up her box.  “Oh, no need to lug that around when you have to come back this way anyway.  You can come back and grab it when we are done.”  So Feyre set the box down and followed Ianthe to the back of the building where her office sat. 

Despite having worked for Ianthe for six months, she had never had the displeasure of being in Ianthe’s office and now she was grateful this was the last time.  What had appeared to be mirrored walls along the office were actually giant two-way mirrors that allowed Ianthe to watch her employees.  The office itself was decorated in floral prints and vases of pink roses that overpowered the air with their cloying scent.

Ianthe started rattling about an exit interview and droned on about the exit terms of her contract.  Feyre listened and nodded along until she felt a familiar prickle of dread move up her spine.  Then the door behind her opened and Feyre turned to see the face of a man she wished she had never crossed again.  Tamlin Spring was looking her over, his grass green eyes eager.

“Feyre, My Love, I hear you’ve decided to come home,” he stepped towards her and she scrambled out of her chair to move away from him.

“I’ll just leave you two to become reacquainted,” Ianthe’s saccharine voice made Feyre wince as she slithered out the door.  This had been orchestrated. 

“I’m not going with you,” Feyre spoke, sounding more confident than she felt.

“You’ve quit your job.  You need me now,” he told her calmly, closing in on her.

“I don’t need you at all.  I have another job, a better job,” she stepped away again.  Then he closed in on her in two big strides and seized her forearm in his too tight grip.  He shoved her back against the wall hard enough that her head bounced off the glass. 

“You’re coming home with me,” he breathed out the words in a growl and then his mouth was over hers, muffling her screaming.  Her knee came up between his legs and Tamlin let go immediately to nurse his injured groin.  Feyre made a run for the door and wrenched it open to bolt for her desk to get her things, even just her purse.  But Ianthe was there with two men from security.

“Stealing manuscripts from us, Miss Archeron?”  Ianthe demanded holding up two manuscripts that had somehow ended up in Feyre’s box.

“I don’t know how those got in there,” Feyre tried to explain to the security guards.  Bron and Hart.  She knew them both and had been on good terms with them.  “Go ahead and go through the rest of my things to make sure nothing else got put in there that shouldn’t be.  I don’t want anything that I didn’t bring in.”

“Don’t bother.  This woman is a thief and I’ll take care of her until the police arrive,” Tamlin’s voice was behind her again.  She turned and saw he looked furious. 

He seized her forearm again, shooting pain down to her fingertips as he squeezed too hard.  Then he wrenched her back, dragging her down the suspiciously empty walkway between cubicles and to a fire door against the back wall.  He dragged her down a set of cement steps and threw her forward into a storeroom in the basement.  She thought that would be the worst of it but he followed her into the storeroom, fire flashing in his eyes that she recognized as his rage as he descended upon her.  She didn’t know what to expect.

“Tam, I didn’t steal those manuscripts,” she tried to explain.

“That doesn’t matter.  Who do you think the police will believe?  Tamlin Spring or some lowly whoring slut?”  Tamlin growled at her.

Feyre blinked.  Tamlin knew she hadn’t stolen those manuscripts.  They had been planted there and she had walked right into their trap.  Anger surged up in her.

“You won’t get away with this.  I’ll get a lawyer.  I’ll expose this to every—” she stopped talking as the back of his head collided with her cheek hard enough to stun her. 

“They won’t believe you anyway,” he gave a soulless laugh, twisted her forearm in his hand, and tossed her down to the floor hard.  Before she could regain her senses and footing, he was gone and the door had slammed behind him.

She ran for the door and tried to open it but it was locked.  She banged on it, screaming to be let out, noting the pain in her left wrist where Tamlin had grabbed it.  She called for help until her voice was hoarse.  She clawed at the door until her nails were broken and her fist was bruised from banging on it.  Tears forced their way out of her eyes as she realized how truly trapped she was.

Soon she realized it had been too long.  Far too long for the police to have responded to a call for a thief.  She doubted they had been called at all.  She turned to survey her surroundings and found an analog clock on the back wall that told her it was almost 5.  She had been there for nearly five hours and the building would be closing down soon.  Still no one came.

By six, she found herself staring at a vent in the ceiling wondering if every action movie she had ever seen had been worth it to show her she could probably crawl out through the duct work.  But she would need a way up and this store room only held empty boxes that wouldn’t hold her weight if she stood on them.  

By eight, she was stacking up the boxes anyway because she was not just going to sit idly by and let them trap her in this storeroom.  She made a pyramid hoping it would hold her longer and crawled up slowly until she was directly below the vent.  To her dismay the vent cover was screwed on tight and when she tried to pull it off anyway, her pyramid shifted to the side and gave out under her, sending her crashing to the concrete floor hard.  Groaning she laid on the floor and started running through her options once more.

Sometime around eleven she heard footsteps on the stairs and believed with all of her heart that Ianthe or Tamlin had come back finally.  She groaned and tried to roll herself up.  She would not face either of them laying on the floor. 

The door opened just as Feyre let out a hiss as her forearm gave under her weight.  She tried to stand to face whoever had come and let out a shuddering sigh of relief when she saw who stood in the doorway.  Cassian stood there looking livid as he looked her over and then to the wreckage of the room.

“I suppose that grate it screwed on,” he muttered.  “You probably would have gotten stuck in the vents if you had gotten up there and made my job much harder.”

“Why are you here?”  Feyre asked, her voice hoarse from screaming.

“Thought you could use a bit of help,” he shrugged.  “Az is getting your stuff upstairs.”  He reached out a hand to her and she went towards him, limping with an injury she must have gotten from falling off her cardboard pyramid.  Cassian’s eyes took that in as well.  Then he slung an arm around her waist, somehow taking most of the weight off of her leg as he supported her up the stairs and through the cubicles until they arrived at hers where Azriel was waiting.

“I think it’s the emergency room for this one,” Cassian told his brother as he steered Feyre towards the front.

“She should get her injuries assessed and catalogued for the police.  I have the other evidence needed,” Azriel growled and stalked after them.

She recounted the story first to Cassian and Azriel in the car, then again to the nurse in the emergency room, and again to the police after she had gotten her body x-rayed to identify her fractured wrist and confirmed it was only deep bruising on her leg.

She limped out to the waiting room sometime around 2 in the morning with every intention of calling a cab to go home since Azriel and Cassian had left after they had spoken with the police.  She took out her phone to start dialing the cab company but a familiar pair of violet eyes locked on hers from where he sat in the waiting room.  Just beyond him she caught a flash of red under a hooded sweatshirt and a familiar pair of russet eyes that disappeared into the shadow of the hood when she glanced over Rhys’ shoulder.  Lucien.  He didn’t seem ill or injured so the fact he was there meant he had likely been sent to keep tabs on her.

“Darling,” Rhys stood and approached her.  “I was hoping you’d let me drive you home since we missed our dinner plans.”

She felt the restraint he was employing in wanting to touch her.  It was his rule he had set into place when she had mentioned the abusive conditions she had left that had kept her from fully wanting to jump into a relationship of any sort.  He wouldn’t touch her unless he had been given permission.  So despite wanting to touch her, likely embrace her by the way his hands twitched towards her and snapped back again, he kept himself a social distance away from her.

“I would really appreciate it,” she told him honestly and closed the distance between them to embrace him.  Cassian and Azriel had revealed they had only known she was missing because she had failed to respond to Rhys over the course of several hours and then hadn’t shown for dinner.  They had only known where to look when because she had told Rhys where she had been going before they had stopped texting.  And it had been because of Rhys they hadn’t waited for police. 

Azriel had quietly explained hacking her phone to track where it was using the fact she had had her location turned on to use the map application to find Velaris and hadn’t turned it off.  Then he had also let her know her computer at work had had a web camera on it that had been recording since she had turned her computer on the gather her files.  It had appeared to be rigged to do that every time she sat at her computer.  It was clear the feed had been watched meaning it had been intentionally set up.  But it also meant he had found the footage of her gathering her things, Ianthe approaching her, and Tamlin slipping those manuscripts into her box before going back to see her.  It also had revealed Tamlin and Ianthe plotting in her cubicle after she had been trapped in the storeroom.  If Cassian and Azriel hadn’t come, she would have been left in there for the rest of the week until she would have been too weak to resist anything Tamlin wanted to do.

So she hugged Rhys and let his arms wrap around her because without him, she likely still would have been trapped. 

“Can I kiss you, Darling?”  Rhys asked softly when she stayed tucked against him.  In response she tipped her head up and let him brush his lips over hers.  “I’ve been worried about you.  Not that I doubted you could take care of yourself—”

“I’m glad you were worried enough to look,” she cut him off.  “Thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Rhys told her.  “Let’s get you home so you can sleep.”

“I don’t suppose you know of any place still open that I can stop to pick up a meal.  I’m starving,” she told him as he slipped an arm around her waist to lead her to the door.  He started to rattle off places that would be open so late to see what would catch her interest.  She glanced back only once to see Lucien was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This fanfiction came about from me sitting in the car and the song "Call Me Maybe" came on. Being as obsessed as I am with this fandom, all I could imagine in my head was "This would totally be Cassian's karaoke song, and it would be choreographed too". I shared that thought with a friend and she agreed (Hi Smert!).


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